


Diplomacy with Hot Chocolate

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Babysitting, Fluff, Gen, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Misunderstandings, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Daisy had met Harry Hart, she'd kicked him in the shin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diplomacy with Hot Chocolate

"Eggsy, do you and your sister need something?" Harry calls, walking downstairs while flexing his wrists. The paperwork today had been revenge from Merlin for blowing up two buildings two days ago, and he vows to leave the glasses on the next time he and Eggsy visit Fitting Room Three.

Eggsy looks up from the brightly-illustrated storybook, with Daisy on his lap, and Harry smiles. He has on one of Harry's sweaters—tan and soft and well-loved. The fabric stretches tightly over his chest, but the sleeves dangle considerably over his wrists. Eggsy's been letting his hair grow out, so tiny curls wisp around his forehead and ears, adding to a softer face from a proper diet and Harry's generous second helpings.

Eggsy had bemoaned at first—"you're trying to fatten me up, Harry!"—but Harry likes feeding Eggsy, likes seeing how the young man light up in curiosity with a new dish, likes seeing his mouth hum and his eyes shut when flavors first touch his tongue.

The sweater gives Eggsy a comfortable and cozy look, as if Eggsy's a normal man who's settling down for the day. But Eggsy's never been ordinary—not to Harry—and seeing a usually tense or overly-excitedly Eggsy fully relaxing makes Harry smile fondly.

"Might I join you?"

Eggsy nods, then nudges his sister. "What do you say, flower? Can Harry join in?"

Daisy stares at Harry, contemplating. The first time she met him, with Eggsy holding his hand, she'd screwed up her face and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. Trying not to curse, Harry had watched as Michelle ran for a bag of frozen peas and Eggsy fluttered between helping Harry sit down and chastising his sister.

"He hurt you!" she'd wailed indignantly, with a stomp of her little foot. "He made you cry, 'ggsy!"

Bit by bit, with the ice soothing a considerable bruise and Eggsy's ears turning progressively redder, Harry had coaxed the story out of Daisy. She'd come with her mother to have brunch with Eggsy, only to find her brother upstairs, sobbing into his hands with his back against the newspapered walls. He'd whimpered Harry's name, and Daisy had hugged him—"because hugs make me feel better," she said, firmly—while Michelle rubbed his back.

"First time I've cried in front of my little sis," Eggsy had confided to Harry on the walk back home. His ears were still red. "I—I've always tried to smile for her, but she caught me off guard—I was having a bad day, and I still thought you—"

Harry had stopped right there on the street to hold him close, ignoring the cold wind and passing traffic. Eggsy had held him tighter, with a muffled sigh, and when he'd pulled away, said, "Daisy will come around, Harry. Give her time."

Harry now holds his breath.

Daisy stares back, lips pursed. "Okay," she says reluctantly. "But only if he brings us hot chocolate."

"Daisy!" Eggsy scolds, but Harry simply leans down to kiss his forehead and says, "Of course. Whipped cream and peppermint?"

The little girl nods, firmly.

"Two, please," Eggsy sighs, "but only if you make one for yourself, too."

Harry kisses Eggsy again, mindful of Daisy's eyes on them. "Of course. Feel free to turn on the telly if there's something you both want to watch."

He retreats to the kitchen, heating up some milk and getting down the dark chocolate powder Roxy bought Eggsy for his birthday two months ago. They'd used it to bake thank you cupcakes for Roxy, then a cake for Percival's birthday two weeks ago, but there's enough for three cups of hot chocolate. Harry mixes each with peppermint sticks—gifts from Michelle—and tops them all off with generous swirls of whipped cream. He can hear the telly downstairs as he loads the mugs carefully onto a tray and begins his descent downstairs.

"Order up," he calls, carefully setting them down in front of Eggsy and Daisy. The television is playing one of the Narnia movies— _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ , if he's not mistaken.

"Posh," Eggsy comments, gesturing to the silver tray.

"Only the best for you two. Careful now, they're hot."

"That's why it's called  _hot_ chocolate," Daisy says, with a short roll of her eyes, but blows on hers carefully. Eggsy stirs his with his peppermint stick, and Harry leaves his on the tray.

"Daisy, what do you say?" her brother prompts. 

"Thanks," she replies, still blowing, and Eggsy throws Harry a sheepish smile.

"You're welcome. And what about _you_ , Eggsy?" Harry teases.

Eggsy rolls his eyes, looking very much like his sister, but thanks Harry verbally and with a chaste peck on his lips. Daisy glances at them, then turns away to look at the screen.

They sit in silence for a while, drinking hot chocolate and watching the movie. Eggsy's head tips to the side and lands on Harry's shoulder, and Harry winds an arm around his waist to support him. Eventually, as Aslan begins breathing on statues, Eggsy begins to snore. Loudly. 

"He's asleep," Daisy observes, surprised. "Eggsy never naps."

"It's because of work."

"I thought your job was sewing or something?"

"There's more involved, but sewing is part of the tailoring profession."

Daisy wrinkles her nose, as another statue onscreen comes back to life. "It sounds sort of boring."

"It's much more exciting than you think," Harry says lightly, drawing Eggsy closer in. He still has faint traces of hot chocolate on his upper lip. "But your brother works very hard, and I knew he'd take to it when I...offered him the job."

Daisy frowns, eyes looking towards where Mr. Tumnus is embracing Lucy onscreen. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Harry wonders if she's going to ask about how he met Eggsy or how Eggsy decided on becoming a "tailor."

Instead, she blurts out: "I mean, he said you were dead, earlier. But you're not."

Harry can't, of course, explain to her exactly what happened, but he asks, "Do you know what V-Day is?"

"A lot of people went mad, everyone says," Daisy explains. "I remember a little. Didn't a lot die, too?"

"Well, yes," Harry says, not sure at first what to say. He's all right with children, but he's never spent too much time to have the same instincts as Percival does. "And Eggsy thought I'd died."

"You're not dead."

"Yes, thankfully. But I—I was...asleep for a long time, and couldn't contact him, until I woke up for a while and called for friends to get me." It's a very simplistic version of the story, but should serve.

"Oh." She blinks. "But what do you mean, asleep? Like in fairy tales?"

"No," Harry tries not to laugh. "No, just...I got hurt very badly, and if you get hurt like that, you...sleep for a while, while the doctors try to fix you."

"But couldn't you have waken up?"

"Not as easily as that."

"Did Eggsy wake you up?"

"He did help," Harry says. He can still remember faint traces of shaking hands on his, with small pleads and promises. "Eggsy, when he found out I was asleep, did his best to wake me up."

"Like Sleeping Beauty?" she asks, skeptically. "Or Aslan?"

"Well, no." Their first kiss had been a few months after his awakening, over a shared plate of tikka masala in their kitchen. And magic had not been involved in waking him up, though the Kingsman doctors toted it as a miracle. "But your brother loved me very much then. And I did, as well, though it took us both some time to realize."

Daisy is very quiet for a long time. "Dean said he loved Mum."

Harry's chest tightens. "Some people say they love someone, and they don't. When you're older, you'll have to find out if that person who says it to you really means it."

"I think you mean it," Daisy says, and it seems so final that Harry nearly startles. "You make him happy. Mum was never happy when Dean was around." She then glares. "But if you make him cry, I'll kick you again. Harder."

Harry, in spite of himself, laughs. "I don't doubt it."

She wrinkles her nose. "I won't kill you, though," she says decisively. "Your hot chocolate is pretty good."

Daisy sounds sincere, so much so that Harry is torn between laughing or backing out of the room. 

He wonders what kind of Kingsman candidate she'd be, and immediately perishes the thought. Eggsy's furiously protective of his sister, and if he knew Harry was even entertaining the thought of recruitment, Harry would be sleeping with the fishes, instead of their lovely queen-sized bed.

There's then a knock on the door, and Harry lifts Eggsy onto the couch, then gets up to look through the peephole and let Michelle in, who smiles at the sight of her son sprawled in sleep and her daughter finishing her hot chocolate.

"Have a good time?" she asks.

"Good," Harry and Daisy both chime, just as Eggsy stirs at the brief commotion. His eyes blink slowly, and Harry resists the urge to run fingers through his mussed hair.

"How was your outing, Mum?"

"Went very well; we might meet up the same time next week." Michelle smiles. She looks much improved, color in her cheeks and no worry or fear in her eyes. Eggsy's mentioned she's been going to therapy and AA meetings, along with more afternoons out with her friends. "Daisy, you ready to go? And Eggsy, love, you and Harry want to stop by for supper?"

Harry and Eggsy both look to Daisy for an answer.

"I don't mind if Harry comes along," she says, with a shrug and a little smirk at the corners of her mouth.

"All right, then," Harry replies, with a smile. "Let me grab a sweater, and we can all walk down together."


End file.
